


In Sickness and Health

by Captainrogerthat



Series: The Chronic Pain Chronicles [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Asexual Aziraphale (Good Omens), Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexual Relationship, Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Cuddling & Snuggling, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, Married Couple, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Other, Physical Disability, Queerplatonic Relationships, Revelations, South Downs Cottage (Good Omens), The Author Is Disabled, Walking Canes, Wheelchairs, Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-08-10 01:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20127295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainrogerthat/pseuds/Captainrogerthat
Summary: After keeping a 6,000 year old secret, Crowley reveals his struggle with chronic pain to his husband.





	In Sickness and Health

As the warmth of summer dwindled away it prompted cooler weather and stiff joints.After a spell of cool air, the Demon Crowley could sense the aches returning. Crowley was no stranger to constant aches and pain. For the last six thousand pain has greeted him every waking moment. Some days worse than others, today was a particular painful flare up. Well, really the entire week had been a bad pain flare up with all the damn rain and cold air moving in.

When his serpentine eyes open, the Demon Crowley groaned softly. The soft sunshine peaking through the blinds hurt his eyes. He snapped his fingers pulling the black out curtains down. The miracle drains him, and he resolved not to use his powers if he can avoid it.  Crowley’s head pounded, the start of a headache building at the base of his neck. It throbbed like a wrecking ball was being rammed against his skull. 

He could feel warm tendrils of pain wrapping around his lower back and legs. The constant ache in his knees, the throb of overextended ligaments in his shoulders and the tension in his wrists. Crowley couldn’t use his cane today, not when everything hurts.  When he slowly sat up, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed carefully, Crowley discoveredthe soreness and inflexibility of his ankles. It was definitely a wheelchair day.

The wheelchair was a fairly recent addition to his collection of mobility aids. London is not necessarily wheelchair user friendly. It requires a lot of planning, especially when traveling via the Tube and navigating central London. It seemed rather impractical at the time, Crowley thought, trying to navigate an inaccessible city with wheels. He opted to use canes or crutches miracling his mobility aids to be invisible on days with stubborn, aching joints. He was never meant to walk on two legs, let alone move in an upright motion. His entire body protested the act, which prompted his adoption of slithering and struting his ragdoll limbs around.

As the couple moved to the cottage in the South Downs, Crowley ran into many obstacles outdoors with his wheelchair. Even with miracles, Crowley couldn’t bare using his cane, braces or crutches afraid of drawing Aziraphale’s attention. It was one thing to use miracle energy to hid while out on a walk, drinking at the bookshop or getting a bite to eat. It's another thing entirely to manifest that much energy over a long period of time and cohabiting a space 24/7, much too draining. Besides, Aziraphale would likely notice that much ethereal-occult energy acting like a beacon almost. 

Living together after all was relatively new, and unexplored. Before Crowley had been able to hid the worst of his pain, chalking up his absence to naps or orders from Downstairs. Although Aziraphale and Crowley have been married since the fourth century before marriage certificates and ceremonies with priests. It was just them making vows and exchanging rings. They aren't used to living together or seeing each other every day. Before Armageddon Nope, they rarely spent every waking moment together. 

It had been easy to hide his pain with careful planning and meticulously constructed alibis. Crowley managed to keep it to himself, hiding himself away when his joints flared up in protest. 6,000 year makes for a long time of keeping secrets, baring such a weighty silence tends to dig into one's soul. Even if Crowley's soul is damned, he can feel himself burn as if he is drenched in holy water lying to Aziraphale.

Often when home alone, Crowley opted to use his cane. The cane did horrible things to his shoulders and wrists. He had yet to venture out in his wheelchair.  As ambulatory wheelchair user, Crowley still felt self conscious in public. He felt freed by the wheelchair but that would require explaining things to Angel. Or worse, what if one of Hell’s agents saw him?The Demon had to admit, the wheelchair made life so much easier when walking long distances, especially during flare ups. 

Using a combination of mobility aids gave him independence and relived his aching joints. He was able to release pressure on his painfully unstable joints and muscles.  But he was afraid, would people treat him different?Hell would certainly screw him over. He told himself that he didn’t Aziraphale to worry, or worse pity him. It had taken him 6,000 years to realize using his wheelchair, cane, and leg braces meant a greater range of freedom.

It was a secret he desperately wanted to keep from Hell and to an extent, Aziraphale. Aziraphale would worry and fuss over him, the Demon didn't want to be fret over. Crowley knew his therapist would ask him some pointed questions and try to get him to reconsider. But he ignored that for the moment.  The demon carefully transferred from the bed to the wheelchair. Crowley rolled himself into the kitchen for a bottle of water and his pain pills. He chose a protein bar for breakfast and grabbed a few extra. 

The demon took his morning dose and prayed softly for some relief. Crowley elected to lay down on his day bed in the office. He  pulled a blanket over his head to block out light. He tried to close his eyes as waves of pain wracked his exhausted form. Crowley tossed and turned in search for a comfortable position. He ended up on his side with a pillow between his knees and hugging another pillow. 

Crowley began to dissociate and focus on a memory. He tried to imagine sitting with Aziraphale in the warmth of the sun on a bench in St. James park. He remembered better days, lost inside his head floating away from the hurt. Finally, he was able to lose himself in his mind. Dreaming of sunshine, feeding ducks in the park, and days where his pain was tolerable. 

Crowley must’ve fell asleep because when the Demon woke, he heard Azirapahle’s worried voice over the voice mail as the message recorded. He lost track of all time, frantically wondering how long he slept for. Aziraphale left for a Biblical Scholarship Conference at Oxford University for a week, leaving Crowley on his own. It wasn't often that they have been apart since the world almost ended. 

Crowley whined softly when he heard Aziraphale’s voice, wishing he could reach the phone to answer it. He didn’t even have the energy to drag his mobile phone from his desk to the bed. In his tiredness, his brain didn’t think to ask Siri to call Azirapahle.  Texting would be an extreme bitch, all that light in his face making his headache worse. The draining energy of composing sentences, typing the wordsout and hitting send was too much. 

Crowley sighed softly, he resigned himself to laying here. As much as he’d love a shower and clean clothes, the Demon simply doesn’t have enough energy. The world was too overstimulating and his body ached constantly like an annoying buzzing background noise.  Unknowing Crowley slept for several days. He only woke for brief stretches of time to take his pain meds. He never left the bed either to accomplish this task.

After four days of laying around, Crowley decides it's time to try something different. With a stubborn determination, he tries to get out of bed. It is a painstaking task trying to get his body to cooperate. Crowley finds he doesn’t have the strength to sit up once upright and falls onto the floor. Panic floods his prone form, afraid he won’t be able to get up and will lay here until he dies. Crowley begins to cry, he roars in desperation and heart ache. It takes him several tries to pull himself up. The demon leans against the bed frame as the vertigo hits.  He screws his eyes shut hoping the room will stop spinning. His vision goes black around the edges. The Demon closed his eyes and rides out the nausea.

Crowley isn’t sure how much time he lost when he finds himself face down on the floor. Azirpahale has left another worried message, and the Demon wills himself to sit slowly into an upright position.  He grits his teeth, and by sheer determination gets back into his wheelchair. Once in the bathroom, Crowley continues with herculean effort of getting his clothes off. 

He finds sitting on the closed toilet more efficient than trying to undress in his wheelchair. Once undressed, Crowley takes a few timid steps into the shower.The Demon is thankful for the foresight to install a shower bench and railing. Crowley had his own bathroom in his office, one that Aziraphale did not use. They each had their own bath and then a shared one in the master bedroom.

Crowley closes his eyes and lets the warm water soothe his aching body. The demon washes away four days of stink away.  Once he is clean, Crowley wraps himself in a towel and transfers into his wheelchair. He chose to dress himself in a pair of loose black joggers and forgoes a shirt. The Demon has never been more glad to see his bed. He gets himself positioned in a decently comfortable spot. The recent dose of pain meds begins to take the edge off. He hopes the warmth of the heating pad will ease aching muscles and throbbing joints.

With his phone, pain meds, water and snacks safely tucked on his night stand, Crowley feels ready to call Aziraphale.

“Siri call Aziraphale.”

“Calling Aziraphale.”

Crowley shuts his eyes, he listens for Aziraphale’s voice. 

“Please tell me you are alright.”, Aziraphale pleaded. 

“Nghk.”, Crowley answered, racking his brain for the words.

“Crowley, dear?”

“I am under the weather I’m afraid.”

“Can I do anything to help?”

“Nah. Give me a few days, then everythingbe tickety boo.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come home?”

“I wouldn’t want to put you out, love.”, Crowley said softly, extremely vulnerable and tender.

“I don’t mind, Crowley. I think I'd rather come home, rather than wait three days.", Aziraphale breathed worriedly, before adding," I could warm you up some chicken broth and butter some toast.”

Crowley’s stomach growled at the thought. The demon didn’t often eat, but he preferred not to take pain meds on an empty stomach. 

“I couldn’t possibly ask that of you.”

“Nonsense, I’m on my way home.”

“Angel don’t....”

“Be there in one shake of a lamb’s tail.”

Crowley groaned and screwed his eyes closed. He kept his eyes shut until Aziraphale arrives outside his door.The Demon startles when he hears Aziraphale struggling to unlock the door with his key. Of course, the Angel mircaled himself home rather than catch the train.

The Demon whines and bonelessly sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Crowley found his cane, and took pained, weighty steps as his legs shook. He knew walking was a mistake the moment Crowley stood up.  Ah, no being stubborn this time around. He’d pay for it later if the Demon attempted to walk to the door. Crowley sighed and sat in his wheelchair, sitting the cane aside. 

He rolled to the door with ease and after a moment of brief hesitation, Crowley opens the door. He can see the shock on Azirapahle’s face, the pause in his breath and the heavy thump of his heart. Oh, yeah, that's right, Crowley forgot to miracle his wheelchair invisible. 

“Oh dear boy.”, Aziraphale's mouth is agape for a moment. He takes in the sight of his grumpy, bastard of a husband and his heart swells with affection. Crowley's sunglasses over his eyes, his hair looks bedraggled, and his pjs are wrinkled betraying the fact he's been bedridden. It's not the wheelchair that surprises him most. But the way pain rolls off the Demon's corperation almost too strongly with the Angel to tolerate.

“I don’t want your pity.”, Crowley hissed. 

“I am surprised is all, sweetheart.”, Aziraphale’s hand cups Crowley’s cheek.

Crowley’s eyes are down cast, he won’t look at Aziraphale. His anxiety is palpableas shame and embarrassment hang heavy in the air.

“I-I’m having a bad pain  week , Angel.”, Crowley voiced softly, and Azirphale was afraid the Demon might discorporate from embarrassment alone. 

“I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want you to know.”

“How long?”

“6,000 years.”

“Tell me everything.”, Aziraphale's voice is soft, judgement free, surprisingly strong despite the fact he wants to fall apart. 

Crowley leads him into the living room. Aziraphale settles on the couch. Crowley locks his wheels as he sat adjacent to the Angel. 

“I wasn’t meant to have a limbs, Angel.

“Because of your serpentine form?”

“Exactly. Snakes have between 150 and 500 vertebrae. Too many vertebrae for humans.”

“Is that why you are in pain?”

“I defied God By taking on a humanoid form and was punished with painfor the entirety of my existence.” 

“If moving causes you excruciating pain, why haven’t I seen you use your wheelchair or canes before?”

“I didn’t want you or Hell’s agents to use it against me so I miracle them invisible. Just forgot this time..”

"I would never hurt you, Crowley."

"You are my blind spot, Aziraphale. I can't trust myself when I'm with you."

Aziraphale makes a mental note to unpack that phrase later, ”Promise me, you will be honest from now on about your pain.”, he pleads.

”Yes, Azirapahle.”

”Please use your cane, wheelchair and crutches whenever you need them.”

"You don’t mind?”

”I care about you, dearest.”

”You aren’t embarrassed.” 

”Heavens no.”

Crowley sniffled, quietly crying. Aziraphale bent down to hung him, letting his husband melt against his shoulder. They just held each other for a moment until Crowley's tears subsided. 

True to his word, Aziraphale made toast and warmed some broth. He did not make a big deal about Crowley's revelation, the Angel took it in stride with grace. He asked how to help Crowley, helping to keep his husband fed and hydrated. Aizraphale reminded him to take his meds, learned to give massages, and help Crowley strength his achy limbs. At the end of the evening they climbed into bed. 

  
Crowley was the little spoon and let Aziraphale hold him close. He found a heated water bottle soothed aches and pains well most days. With a bunch of pillows and careful positioning, Crowley was able to fall asleep for a bit. 

When Crowley woke several hours later,he found Aziraphale reading quietly. The Demon didn't want to reveal that he was awake, trying to be very still and quiet as he laid there basking in the warmth of the Angel's love. 

"Hey you.", Crowley breathes. 

"Hi, dearest. Feeling any better?"

"No, but it's nice to have you here.". Crowley hissed.

  
"I promise you never have to deal with this on your own if you don't want to."

"Why?", Crowley's voice is soft as if he is on the verge of falling apart.

"Why, because I love you, Anthony. "

  
  
"You aren't cross?"

"No, I think it must've been awfully lonely and difficult to carry a secret like chronic pain for 6,000 years,dearest."

"Oh.", Crowley was rather speechless.

"I believe couples promise be together in sickness and health traditionally speaking."

"You didn't sign up for this."

"Neither did you."

"You're telling me, you don't care if we have to give up long walks in the park or going to the beach?"

"We'll find a different way of doing things together." 

Crowley was breathless, his mouth was agape, overwhelmed with emotions. He just looked at Aziraphale like he hung the goddamn moon. 

"I've loved you for 6,000 years and somehow you keep surprising me, Angel." 

  
"I'm not going anywhere, you're stuck with me.", Aziraphale teased, kissing Crowley's forehead. 

An Angel and a Demon lounge in bed under the roof of a shared cottage in the South Downs, an hour and a half outside of London. It won't always be easy, but they're going to figure it out together. Cause they've loved each for thousands of years, and they'll love each other for thousands more. Somewhere, God smiles down on them, blessing them with tolerable fall weather, plenty of hot coco, fuzzy socks and oversized sweaters. 


End file.
